Flying above New York City in a helicopter can be a beautiful thing, until you look down and see that someone has stolen and is living your dream life in a bucolic cabin on a rooftop in the West Village. Is there anything more enviable in the real estate racket of NYC than a house on a regular old apartment building's roof? Sonnets should be written about this shit. Ballads composed and sung... from other, lesser rooftops. The dichotomy of country and city right there, together, and yet still so close to mass transit and Starbucks. From the safety of the sidewalk you'll continue to live on in blissful ignorance, seeing only this as you pass by the building on Greenwich Street:
From up above, however, you'll discover a picturesque cabin that looks like it belongs in a horror flick, or maybe a Lifetime Christmas special. Someone comes home to this. Someone comes up from the dirty city streets, kicks their shoes off, uncorks some rosé, and drinks it straight from the bottle while walking around barefoot in that fresh grass.
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